...but the fish are suspiciously silent

Fic: Confession (it's kind of like porn, in a way), SPN, Dean/Castiel

Title: Confession (it's kind of like porn, in a way)Author: ClaireFandom: SupernaturalPairing: Dean/CastielRating: NC-17Word Count: 1,185Summary: It's been three weeks since Castiel's last confession...Notes: Written for kink_bingo for the Roleplay square. (Still aiming for the line...)

Dean closes the door to the confessional, settling on the chair that's actually surprisingly comfortable. (And completely unlike the one a couple of towns back that had creaked ominously every time they'd moved. Dean had spent more time worrying about landing ass-first on the floor until Castiel had moved from his lap and swallowed him down in one. He hadn't given a flying fuck about the chair after that.)

It had been ridiculously easy for Dean to break into the empty church (and thank fuck for finding one with a side door - unlike the first two he'd had to pass by because of entrances that led directly onto main streets and the possibility of awkward Mommy, why is the priest lockpicking the church-- questions), parking the Impala down the side street once he'd confirmed there was no one inside.

Pulling his cell out of his pocket, Dean types a quick message, the St Mary's, Vine Street blinking on the screen before he grins and presses his thumb down on the send button

Three, two, on--

The countdown's interrupted by a soft whoosh of air and the sound of someone in the booth next to him.

Pulling back the small divider between the booths, he's tempted to comment about Cas about taking so long to arrive (there have been times when he's barely off the three before his angel is there) but instead he settles for--

"Yes, my child?"

There's a pause before--

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned; it's been three weeks since my last confession."

Three weeks since they've had time to do this. Three weeks of hurried handjobs between research, of moments stolen here and there while they tried to figure out exactly what was killing the people of Smallwater (it was a kelpie - a big, pissed off, and now very dead, kelpie), and of Sam (the cock-blocking little bastard) walking in on at least one blowjob and yelling at them for making him go blind.

And now they're here, only a thin piece of wood between them as Cas continues--

"Tell me about them." Because it's not just Cas that gets off to the thought of Dean as a priest (and someone somewhere fucking loves him because it can't have been pure luck that gave Dean Winchester the only angel with a priest kink), not just Cas who gets hard thinking about being on his knees, confessing his sins, his lust, his fucking everything.

"I've sucked a man's cock, Father. Begged to take him inside me."

Fuck-- Dean grinds the palm of his hand against his cock, hard and straining behind his trousers. Hard and straining because he can see it; can see Cas on his knees in front of Dean in a flea-bitten motel. Can see Castiel, strong and proud and on his fucking knees in front of Dean because he wants to be there.

"I've held him in my mouth, hot and heavy, and swallowed him down."

"God--" And the word doesn't break in the middle, it doesn't.

"I've put fingers inside myself when he's not there."

And if Dean thought his cock couldn't get any harder, he's wrong, because he's hot and pulsing and already about five steps away from coming, and Cas is still fucking talking--

"I thought about him sliding into my body as I pleasured myself. I imagined the burn inside me to be him, the fingers inside me to be his."

Oh, holy fuck. "Cas, please--"

The words die in the air, swallowed by the rush of wind that brings Cas to him, pressed close in a booth that was never designed to hold two fully grown men.

"Dean--"

Cas's voice already sounds wrecked as he reaches out, fingers around Dean's arms, the heat from his touch seeping through the thin shirt.

Dean's fingers are at his trousers, tugging them open and trying not to touch his cock as it's finally freed from the confines of fabric. Trying not to touch, because he's one step away from coming and if he does it's going to be over. Because he's one step away from coming and he refuses to do that until he's buried in Castiel. "C'mon, Cas, clothes--"

It's the perk of fucking an angel that the word is barely out of Dean's mouth before Cas is naked and sinking onto Dean's lap, lithe and graceful, his legs straddling Dean's thighs.

"You ready?" Dean asks, his hand moving to Castiel's ass, fingers sliding through slickness before they press into Cas's hole.

"Always," Cas responds, riding Dean's fingers as he arches into the touch.

Pulling his fingers out of Cas's body, Dean cups his ass and pulls him forward slightly, pulls him forward until the head of Dean's cock catches on Cas's rim and sinks inside. Pulls him forward until Dean's fully in, cock surrounded by tight and heat and Cas.

There's a moment, soft and quiet, when Cas doesn't move and the only thing Dean can hear is the harshness of their breathing. Cas's thighs are against his and his cock is trapped between them, precome soaking into Dean's shirt.

"Cas--" Because this is fucking killing him here.

But Castiel doesn't answer, just loosens his grip on Dean's arm to run his fingers across the dog collar at Dean's throat. And Dean barely has time to think that his angel's a kinky fucker before Cas is moving, hand against Dean's chest and head thrown back and riding Dean's dick. And Dean knows this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly because he's there, balls tightening and heat curling in his belly as Cas fucks himself on Dean's cock. And three weeks of frustration explode out of Dean as he empties himself into Cas, gripping Cas's hips and stilling him as he comes.

Cas whines low in his throat as Dean comes, the glare he gives Dean muted by the arousal in his eyes and the hard cock bouncing against Dean's stomach. Fist bunching in Dean's shirt briefly before letting go, Cas wraps his fingers around his cock, stripping his dick. His hand moves over hard flesh once, twice, and then he's coming, splattering Dean's shirt and shuddering as his cock pulses.

Dean's cock gives a valiant final twitch as Cas's muscles clench around him, but it's not enough to stop him from slipping out of Cas's body. "C'mere," he says softly, as he moves his hands to run fingers through Cas's hair, tugging his head forward until their lips meet.

"You know, Dean," Cas says, when they finally break apart, "I believe St Michael's in the next street will be empty tomorrow night."

Pulling Cas back down, Dean grins around the kiss, and wonders if St Michael's has a side door.